Chapter 7 – When It Comes to Men


A sleek, black limousine stopped in front of the Bronze. His demon chauffeur opened his door and Angel stepped out. He’d been drinking champagne on the trip to Sunnydale and was enjoying a pleasant buzz. It was always best to have an anesthetic before dealing with his grandchilde, Spike. He should never have allowed Drusilla to turn Spike, he told himself for about the two-millionth time since 1880.

He broke through a long line of women who were standing outside the club and wondered why they were waiting. Some of them weren’t bad looking. He might be able to see some action tonight once he’d finished attending to Spike’s latest disaster.

It didn’t take him long to find his grandchilde. Spike stood in the middle of the dance floor next to Buffy, surrounded by the wreckage of broken tables and chairs. Xander was waving a stake around, threatening Spike and arguing with Buffy.

Buffy ended the argument by clipping Xander on the jaw. He dropped his stake and fell to the floor. Buffy didn’t allow the fact that Xander was out cold stop her from giving him a piece of her mind on the subject of Spike.

“You do not get to dust Spike, Xander. We’re lovers and you’ll have to get used to it and … Angel, what are you doing here?”

Buffy stared at Angel and the way he gelled his hair all up in jagged clumps. Had she ever thought Angel’s hair thing was attractive? Curly hair - way better. She realized that now.

“Cordelia called me,” Angel said. “She said you were sleeping with Spike. Is that true?”

“Piss off, Peaches. It’s none of your business,” Spike said. He put his arm around Buffy to confirm the rumor. Supporting Buffy while she argued with Angelus was the least he could do since she’d been so brave and told her friends about them and she’d decked the Whelp, too. Also, he wasn’t certain she could hold her own once Mr. Broody got going with his personal opinions on the Wickedness of Spike.

Buffy was not quite ready to tell Angel to piss off, but she didn’t want to hear any lectures from the man – er - vampire who dumped her. Also, Buffy didn’t want Spike and Angel to get into a fight, which was bound to happen if Spike kept talking.

“Spike, shut up,” she said. “Angel, my relationship with Spike doesn’t concern you. And, I’ve endured enough lectures for one evening about the Evils of Spike Dating.”

“I’m worried about you, Buffy. You don’t know Spike like I do. He’s …”

“Yeah, yeah. Your Companion in Scourginess – William the Bloody – yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“Be sensible. He’s a vampire. You’re the Slayer. He doesn’t have a soul. That chip in his head could stop working any moment.”

“Like your soul stopped working?”

“That’s not fair, Buffy, it was the curse.” Angel didn’t like being reminded of his detour to the dark side. He preferred discussing Spike’s bad behavior.

“The whole Vampire-Slayer thing didn’t worry you when you were running after me. I’m beginning to think the whole soul-having is overrated.”

“What are you saying? Do you have any idea how many people he’s killed?”

“Let’s see. He’s about half as old as you, so I’d say he’s killed about half as many people, which I admit is way too many, but he isn’t going to kill any humans ever again. Are you?” Buffy glared at Spike, who was sliding his hand up the back of her dress instead of paying attention to what she was telling Angel.

“No, pet.”

Angel wasn’t through pointing out the error of Buffy’s ways. “What can I say to convince you to stay away from him?”

“Nothing.” Buffy crossed her arms.

Spike and Angel stepped back.

Cordelia swept onto the dance floor, walked up to Spike and slapped him hard on the face. “That’s for two-timing me, you big jerk. Go back to your precious Buffy if she’ll have you. See if I care, you big liar.”

Cordelia sobbed and covered her face with her hands.

Buffy reached out to pull Cordelia’s hair and scratch her eyes out, but Spike grabbed her hands and prevented her from doing any damage.

“Angel,” Cordelia cried, “Thank goodness, you’re here. I should never have come back to Sunnydale.” She threw herself into Angel’s arms.

Angel put his arms around Cordelia after flapping his hands around trying to find a neutral place to put them. He hated crying women – the shrieking, the tears, the sulking. You could never understand what they were crying about and whatever you said made things worse. Spike never minded howling females and they fell all over themselves chasing after him because he did. Angel considered asking Spike how he managed that particular trick, other than by being a cry baby himself.

“What’s the matter, Cordy?” Angel asked, “What happened?”

“Spike happened. I came back to town and he was all over me, telling me he loved me. Now he’s dumping me and going back to Buffy. He used me to make Buffy jealous!” Cordelia cried louder and peeked through her fingers to see how Angel was taking this news.

Angel sighed and peeled Cordelia away.

Angel didn’t think Spike was smart enough to come up with any plan to make Buffy jealous. Obsessive pestering, whining and unrelenting talking were more the Spike style with women. He suspected Cordelia was up to some trick, but he couldn’t for the unlife of him, figure out what it was.

He had no choice. He’d have to hit Spike to get Cordelia to stop crying.

He didn’t mind hitting Spike, he always deserved a good thrashing, but the hour was getting late. He’d wanted to get the fight over with quickly so he could hook up with one of the cute babes he’d seen earlier.

“Spike, you bastard,” Angel said, with no particular animosity.

Spike wasn’t about to take the lies Cordelia was telling about him. “This was all your idea! It was your plan to make ….” Spike didn’t finish his sentence because Angelus socked him in the nose and knocked him to the floor with one blow.

Buffy kicked Angel to the floor with a roundhouse blow to the gut.

“I’d appreciate it if everyone, who isn’t me, would not hit Spike for the rest of the evening,” Buffy said before she dropped down next to Spike.

***

“Spike, are you hurt? Let me see your nose.”

“Is it crooked?” he asked. “Owww, Slayer!”

Buffy grasped his nose and jerked it hard to straighten it back into place, ignoring his cry of pain. She helped Spike sit up and wiped his nose blood on her dress, which was not only torn but decorated with blood, snot, stale beer and Floor of Bronze. This dress was so history.

Cordelia’s crying bout hadn’t sounded all that heartfelt to Buffy, but she wondered what Spike had been telling Cordelia while he made her jealous.

“Spike? Did you do all that stuff with Cordelia to make me jealous?”

Spike touched his nose. It hurt like hell. “You don’t think I wanted to spend time with that dozy cow, do you?”

Buffy didn’t think Spike wanted to spend time with Cordelia; she was too annoying for anyone to hang around her on an extended basis. One thing worried Buffy. Spike would do or say anything to get what he wanted.

“You didn’t tell Cordelia you loved her or anything, like by accident?”

Spike pulled her onto his lap and crushed her until she thought her ribs would break. “That’s three words I’ll never say to anybody but you.”

Buffy laughed with relief.

Spike gave her another oxygen-depriving kiss, until she struggled away.

“Let’s go to your place.” She crawled off Spike’s lap and waited for him to stand up and give her a hand to avoid another incident involving his hands on her butt in public.

She strongly considered giving these shoes to Dawn, who never found herself sitting in the middle of the floor at the Bronze or other embarrassing situations.

Spike helped her up. Buffy squeezed his hand and headed for the back door.

“Not so fast, Slayer.”

“Don’t you want to go to your place and have wild monkey sex?” she whispered.

“Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?”

Buffy blushed. She’d planned on making the Big Romantic Confession while she and Spike were making love, not in the middle of the Bronze dance floor, surrounded by her nosy friends and the semi-conscious human and vampire she’d beat up.

“Couldn’t I tell you later?”

“Nope.”

Buffy screwed up her courage. She looked around at her friends. They’d have to deal. Telling them - not as scary as lopping off the head of a ryzark demon, after all.

She put her arms around Spike’s neck. “I love you, Spike.”

He picked her up and twirled her around and mashed his mouth against hers. He tossed her over his shoulder, exposing her black-lace panties to everyone in the bar. “Let’s go, Slayer. I’m horny.”

“Put me down, Spike! Everyone can see my panties!”

“You weren’t planning on walking to my place in those shoes were you?”

“No?”

“I thought not.” Spike swatted her on the butt, and hurried out the back door, with his Slayer.

***

Dawn, who had been lurking in the shadows so her sister wouldn’t catch her in non-homework mode, watched with satisfaction as Spike whirled Buffy around and carried her out the back door. Dawn hoped they would go to Spike’s crypt instead of her house. The two of them were bound to make a lot of noise while they were boinking and ewww.

Cordelia was still sniffling and carrying on when Dawn walked up to her and whispered, “It worked.”

“When it comes to men, I’m the Slayer,” Cordelia whispered back and winked.

Cordelia helped Angel get up from the floor where Buffy left him. She put her arm around him and continued to snivel and wipe away fake tears as they walked out of the bar and got into his limousine to go home.

Dawn looked around the room. A way-hot looking guy loafed around one of the tables in the back. He was tall, thin, and had blue-black hair and pale, white skin. She hoped he wasn’t a vampire. Or, maybe she hoped he was. She decided to talk to a couple of other guys with her liberated tickets while she checked him out.

She sat down at a table, without looking to see who she’d be talking with, and handed over a ticket.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Dawn.” She twisted her head around to keep an eye on the cute guy with the black hair.

“I’m Brandon,” her date said. “You’re really hot looking. You’re not insane or anything are you?”

“No, I’m an ethereal key that opens up hell dimensions. I’m not human and in my real shape, I look like a green mist.”

Brandon said nothing for a moment.

“Are you related to Buffy?”


The End (And No Sequels)